


In A Glass, Darkly

by EmmyJay



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: F/F, Oh My God There Were Girls In This Comic, Pre-Chapter 1, Roses, So before Adelaide took up residence in Conrad's apartment, Stalking, Theatre, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 12:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19393813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyJay/pseuds/EmmyJay
Summary: The weeks passed.  The audience cheered, the crowd went wild, the curtain fell on another job well done.  Toni didn't look at the shadows any more; she didn't want to see them move.In which Toni has a secret admirer.





	In A Glass, Darkly

**Author's Note:**

> Originally completed and posted September 2011. Revised and re-posted now.

It started with a red rose on her dressing table.

At first, Toni assumed it was meant for someone else, another cast member with a besotted beau who couldn't tell one table from another in the cluttered backstage. She asked her fellow actors if anyone had a secret admirer, or a lover, and she found Marisa, who had a boyfriend.

"Ask him if he's been leaving you roses."

She asked. He was not.

"Ask him if he's lying."

She asked. He was not.

So Toni kept the rose. It seemed harmless enough—a trinket from a fan, or possible a member of the crew, since they had access to the dressing rooms. She took it home and put it in her prettiest cup, since she didn't own a vase. She changed the water every few days, sprinkling in sugar because she'd heard it prolonged the life of the flower. And when it wilted a week and a half later, she disposed of the remains, and thought no more about it.

A month came and went, with it a moon, and there were no more roses from Toni's fan. Rehearsals grew more and more intense as opening night drew near, tensions rising amongst actors and stage crew alike, the curtain needs to go up faster, that set change is cutting it too close, I only sing off-key when I'm nervous, why haven't you fixed my mic yet? The world became a blur of stress and excitement, and Toni scarcely had time to _breathe_ , much less stop and look for roses in a prop box.

But then she didn't need to look, because she came in early opening night to make a last-minute adjustment to her costume and found another rose lying in a small puddle of blood.

No, she told herself, it wasn't blood; this was theatre. It was a prop, probably food coloring, or some kind of syrup. Never mind that she had handled a variety of mediums for theatrical blood in her years onstage, none of which had this consistency, or smelled so much like—

Toni cleaned the mess and threw out the rose before the rest of the cast arrived. She didn't want to answer their questions.

Regardless of roses, their opening night was a success. The theatre was sold-out, and the audience gasped and cheered, _ooh_ ed and _aah_ ed, stood to applaud them as they took their company bow. The excitement and pride, in herself and her castmates, was enough to banish all of Toni's darker thoughts, the doubts lingering in her mind.

When the curtain fell, there was another rose on her table—this one tangled in a simple silver chain.

Toni's first instinct was to grab it: trying to throw it away, shrieking in pain when the pure metal burned her hand. Immediately the rest of the cast surrounded her, murmuring concern, pulling her away from the dressing rooms and the chattering trickle of family members coming to give congratulations. Sarah, one of the ensemble, sat with her on the sidewalk out back, speaking in soft murmurs and pressing a plastic cup of cool water to her lips until she was calm enough to venture back inside.

One of the microphone techs threw out the rose, chain and all. Sarah went missing two days later.

The cast watched her after that, their eyes wary, as though afraid that she might break. In response Toni threw herself wholly into the show, as if to say _I am strong_ , _I will not be shaken_. No matter how afraid she was of the shadows backstage, when they moved queerly as she waited for her cue, as though they might snatch her up and drag her screaming away—like in her dreams, full of spotlights and rose petals, and hands with nails like thorns that dragged the length of her stomach.

The weeks passed. The audience cheered, the crowd went wild, the curtain fell on another job well done. Toni didn't look at the shadows any more; she didn't want to see them move.

The night was clear outside the theatre when she finally left, the half-full moon casting just enough glow that Toni could see down the road despite the broken lamps. She forced herself to walk several blocks, just far enough to get out of range of anyone lingering around the theatre. Then, she stopped.

"I know you're there," she said, and prided herself on being able to keep the tremble from her voice. "You might as well just come out."

The shadows were still, and for half a heartbeat Toni felt a swell of hope that she had been wrong. Then they were moving, the way no shadow should ever move, and _something_ came out of them: simply melted out of the stuff shadows are made of, twisting and molding until it stood before her, tall and elegant and everything out of a nightmare.

"Good show tonight, honey," the shadow purred. "Spare a minute for an autograph?"

Even in human form, Toni could smell the miniscule differences that separated this woman's scent from a human's. Even without the smell, she probably could have called it; no human woman could possibly move like that, shifting from stationary form to fluid shadow like drops of spilled mercury. Her presence alone woke Toni's defensive instincts, pushing her to turn on the spot as she was circled, so her back was never exposed. If the woman noticed the behavior, she said nothing; instead, she ran her eyes the length of Toni's body, lips curved in a wicked smile.

"How's your hand?" she asked nonchalantly, nodding to the appendage in question. Instinctively Toni's left hand snapped into a fist, fingers digging into the spot where the silver chain had burned her.

"You've been leaving me roses," she said, stating what she had realized the moment this woman had melted from the shadows. "Why?"

The woman made a soft _hmm_ ing sound, eyeing Toni as though she were wondering what flavor she was—a look Toni had never received before from anyone, much less another woman.

"Because I liked you," she said, and _God_ but her voice was beautiful, like sin in the form of a song. "I'm a bit of a fan, you see. I thought I'd show you my appreciation."

_Her appreciation._ Toni openly scoffed at that, it was so ridiculous. "Look," she snapped, irritated, "I already know you're not human, and I think you know that I know." She planted her feet, drawing herself into the most aggressive stance she could manage. "So if we could cut the crap, that would be just _great_."

The woman's smile broadened, dark lips curling back to reveal far too many teeth. And then she _moved_.

There was no way to describe the action. It was like the shadows Toni saw out of the corner of her eye, the ones she had been ignoring for almost a month now, didn't want to see, didn't want to be afraid but _oh_ , she was—of the shadows, of this woman who moved like them, who seemed to flicker in and out of the corners of Toni's vision until she was _there_ , too close, her skin like ice where she held her wrists. And Toni struggled, but there was no stopping this, no fighting as this woman, this **creature** drew her in close, closer, too close, **no** —

"Hush, my dearest." The words were whispered against Toni's lips, the exhalation like ice. "It will all be over soon."

Fighting the freezing cold that burned her everywhere the woman touched, Toni mustered all of her strength, and **shoved**.

The woman didn't stumble, not that Toni had expected her to. But she was thrown back a step, and her grip loosened just enough that Toni was able to wrench herself free, feet working to put as much distance between them in as little time as possible. Simultaneously her hand dug into her coat pocket, seeking her best weapon, her back door, her charm

wasn't

there.

She grasped at lint and air, still scrambling even after her brain processed the fact that her pocket was empty. That the object she sought was dangling from a set of pale fingers suddenly inches from her face, cradled against an ashen palm.

"What's this? Cheating the moon, are we?" The woman's hand snapped closed and _shit_ , that cracking sound could **not** be good. The fingers opened again like a flower, and now Toni could see the sharp, angry crack that nearly split her charm in two; a tilt of the hand and the charm dropped, cracked deepening on impact with the pavement. But Toni couldn't focus on the charm any more, because this creature was _there_ again, up against her _too close oh **God**_ —

"I like you, Wolfie," she breathed in Toni's ear: voice little more than a gasp, chest shaking more with silent laughter than any need to breathe. "I think we should be _friends_."

And she was gone, without even a breeze to indicate she had ever been at all.

That night as she showered, Toni felt fingers not her own combing through her hair. When she turned around, there was nothing behind her but steam.


End file.
